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Thread: Poetry Corner

  1. #1

    Default Poetry Corner

    Yes, this has probably been attempted before here, but what the hey.

    Offer commentary, constructive criticism, or your own work to discuss. Ideally, I'd like to see this evolve into something more organic, where anyone with an itch to write or just an itch to read poetry can enjoy.

    I'll offer up one of my older bits to get things started.

    Once Upon A Dream (A Life In the Year)

    I slept and dreamed 'midst angry waters,
    too far away from sinful minds.
    Somehow I knew the clocks had broken
    so frozen peaks became the tide,
    and then I looked into the silver pennies falling from the sky.

    A touch of spring disturbed my slumber.
    Still frosty children came to hide.
    Mighty illusions melt like summertime
    as cloudy kings will soon arrive.
    They come to bury me, but I have only just become alive.

    Out from the cold
    come the April stars that break the shroud
    of the darkest night. Their warm embrace
    fills the air with light, then dissipates
    in the August of my life.

    The autumn breeze blows quickly onward.
    I harvest ashes in the night.
    White bearded fields soon take position,
    and icy winds howl back in spite.
    I am alone again, waiting for the summer sun to rise...

  2. #2

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    You have very deep work and I must say I'm impressed. Took me a few reads to fully decipher it, but I enjoyed it more and more after every read, and I still haven't reached the bottom of this poem's meaning yet! However, I must say the best part about this poem is the composition. It reads like a fluid poem of deep emotional thought rather than a concrete one of rigidity.

    And judging from the metaphors, it also seems that you enjoy nature-related poetry. Nature tends to be one of the focuses of my poetry, so you get brownie points =P

  3. #3

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    Quote Originally Posted by BigKid25 View Post
    You have very deep work and I must say I'm impressed. Took me a few reads to fully decipher it, but I enjoyed it more and more after every read, and I still haven't reached the bottom of this poem's meaning yet! However, I must say the best part about this poem is the composition. It reads like a fluid poem of deep emotional thought rather than a concrete one of rigidity.

    And judging from the metaphors, it also seems that you enjoy nature-related poetry. Nature tends to be one of the focuses of my poetry, so you get brownie points =P
    Well thank you for that. I must confess, I wear my Eliot and Cummings influences on my sleeve. This is something slightly more recent. The evolution is apparent, but it's still very much nature metaphor, which is right in my wheelhouse.

    This is presented from several different POV's over the course of the poem, but they all are focused on the central figure, if that helps any in advance...

    Images

    Cheshire smiling sun shining sarcastic
    Orb essence staring down on new time
    Felt forest breathing, pulsing, eclectic
    Blazing flora flourished, vibrant pantomime

    And the callous river continues indifferently
    And the soulless river continues unendingly

    Fearsome fiery sun dancing demonic
    Orb fury raining down on red clay
    Bleached bones sleeping, bleak, catatonic
    Blazing flora rooted, defiant against the day

    And the callous river continues indifferently
    And the soulless river continues unendingly

    The peaceful rush belies your ancient raging silence
    The dormant power cascading through the whispering lie
    Awaiting only a touch from a primal ancestor
    Turn this quiet mirror into an all-consuming fire

    Violence sets her course tonight
    New power falling from the sky
    Hell awakens from her bed
    Shallow and raging, see her rise
    Fixes her gaze on virgin life
    Terror flowing from her eyes
    Bringing newborn death to the land
    Welcome recreation of existence

    "Oh, for a thousand wretched rivers
    Continue at my wounded crown
    The silted babble strips and worries
    My stoic granite faces down"

    Before the dawn is broken
    I see the water flowing
    Through winter's raging violence
    And summer's fiery silence
    Undaunted, forward marching
    Unmoved and sickly minded
    No shame for what it's taken
    These portraits burn forevermore

    Listless waning sun, soft melting plastic
    Orb crimson distance quietly fades away
    Deep golden valley, enshrouded and mystic
    Dreaming flora settled, preparing another day

    And the callous river disperses indifferently
    And the soulless river pours into the open sea

  4. #4

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    ooo I like this thread...

    I can definitely see Cummings in your work... I don't usually care much for nature poetry but I like his stuff, and yours

    As BigKid mentioned, the way you construct your poems in impressive. Personally I prefer going free verse for the most part, but I have a great deal of respect for people that set out to write poems with structure AND still manage to get a deep and personal message thru. On your first poem, namely I like how you touch on the topic of passing time and the cyclical nature of life.

    As a matter of fact, most of the stuff I write makes some reference to that. Here's a couple of poems I wrote I while ago. As you can see i'm not a big fan of constructing my poems in a certain way, but just let my thoughts flow on paper. In the second one I had alot of fun playing with syntax, although I rarely do.

    Grey Sky

    a Grey Sky in today's time
    remains a constant yesterday, and tomorrow

    a Grey Sky in today's time
    drives a wedge between slaves and masters
    like the sun bows behind static clouds for the moon
    so inside me duty gives way to life

    until the cycle decides to complete itself
    not knowing I will
    ride towards nowhere
    to do nothing for no-one

    And as the sun coughs up
    light, splitting an undecided dusk
    so split are my seconds
    void of purpose
    and full of life

    a Grey Sky in today's time
    takes away direction
    and upon me,
    bestows a smile"

    [Looking Forward...

    [We're all stargazers
    looking out into wishful darkness...
    [never stopping to look down...
    [or even condider that the ground
    may be deeper than the sky...

    [at night we forget our sorrow...
    [and dawn washes away our sins...
    [today I drowned tomorrow...
    [and tomorrow i'll burn today...

    [the reason
    we look at tomorrow surface...
    [and not at today's flesh...
    [is if passing fires did not lead us somewhere...
    [then what would be the point of the sun rising again...

    [We live for tomorrow...
    [tomorrow exists for us to live...
    [it doesn't take an enbittered madman to kill oneself...
    [just you...
    [content...


    [today.]

  5. #5

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    I really dig Grey Sky - the line that hit me hardest was "light, splitting an undecided dusk". I have a soft spot for unexpected adjectives, seriously.

  6. #6

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    I really like the poems. I like the alliterations in Images and the imagery in Looking Forward. I wrote "Loves Enjoyed and Lost" because of a note my wife put in my lunch. When I was in college, there was a towny who came over to my apartment almost every day. I lived off campus. He was one of the most wonderful kids I have ever known. I think, secretly, we loved each other. When I graduated and had to leave, he cried in my arms. He was a few years younger than me and so our relationship remained platonic, but still..... (sorry for the ellipse, but it applies here). We'd fool around and he'd say, "You're mighty bold." My wife put that saying on a note in my lunch. Suddenly I was flooded with so many memories from so long ago. I envisioned past relationships as casualties of war, and me being dead, like those relationships. So here is the poem I wrote a few short months ago, the first poem I have written since those past college days.

    I might add that this poem is not about one person, but all the ones I have either loved, or had meaning in my life. The most important person is my college room mate, and we still remain friends and in contact with each other. There was a girl as well. Life is always complicated, but love makes it all make sense.

    Loves Enjoyed and Lost

    A note, a thought, a memory put out of place,
    returns to surface as if a storm
    brought forth from out a murky space,
    wrecks forever lost now haunt this calm.

    Loves enjoyed and lost, like wounded soldiers on some foreign shore,
    and I no longer with them, a casualty of war,
    no longer with these comrades, all but dead, gone from their past,
    lost in faded memory, a sad forgotten epitaph.

    Who’s song is sung, the long cold night,
    where memories go to take their flight,
    who tolls the bell for friendships lost,
    where careless love became the holocaust.

    A note saved in a darkened drawer,
    a summer photograph, a day spent at the shore,
    and you, your youth now taken by the tide
    and me who laid down by your side.

    No more the sleepless nights,
    where fits of restless wanting haunts
    these faded memories lost in some
    dissipated heat where only ghosts now sleep.

    I am that soldier dead and faded on the beach,
    forgotten by his comrades who when returned
    moved on and passed the shallow grave
    that holds our treasured ashes, the long neglected urn.

    I wonder, do they too look back,
    no longer young and beautiful.
    Is there a photograph of me still kept
    because of love or some memorial?

  7. #7
    June

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    I would share some of mine, but I'm afraid of plagiarism. It's a risk I'm not willing to take due to the factthat I turn many of my poems into songs.

  8. #8

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    Quote Originally Posted by TeenageToddler View Post
    I would share some of mine, but I'm afraid of plagiarism. It's a risk I'm not willing to take due to the factthat I turn many of my poems into songs.
    The two pieces I posted are songs. Had I decent copies, I'd have posted the performances of the songs themselves as well. With the preponderance of original work on this site, I'd think the last thing I'd be concerned about was plagiarism.

    ---------- Post added at 11:54 PM ---------- Previous post was at 11:49 PM ----------



    Quote Originally Posted by dogboy View Post
    I am that soldier dead and faded on the beach,
    forgotten by his comrades who when returned
    moved on and passed the shallow grave
    that holds our treasured ashes, the long neglected urn.
    Devastating stanza, this.

    ---------- Post added at 11:59 PM ---------- Previous post was at 11:54 PM ----------



    Quote Originally Posted by GnawRazorclaw View Post
    I have a great deal of respect for people that set out to write poems with structure AND still manage to get a deep and personal message thru.
    I missed this specific statement the first time through, and wanted to address it a bit.

    Honestly, when I sit down to write, initially it's completely vacuous - whatever words come out come out. Once there are words on the page, then the shape starts to happen - that initial pile of words morphs into both the topic and the structure that helps me complete the thought. I have tried writing complete free verse, and it winds up sounding less like a poem and more like a conversation between a madman and one of the internal stimuli to which he is responding...

    This is an excellent early example (circa 1994, roughly) of the former - I inadvertently wrote a sonnet form with three stanzas, and by the third stanza it was clear how the rest of the poem should look.

    Human Song

    In evil twisted serpentine
    Unnatural fibrous contact grows
    Strange, yet fluid, circled prose
    To pulse and chatter down my spine

    Incarnate of a reckless tongue
    (which shatters earthly sustenance)
    The clouded fumes of forty pence
    worth of gasoline is sung

    I cannot wander further in-
    to hazy masquerades of thought
    These fuels of consciousness I sought
    Unknowingly, to purge my sin

    My angry death I cauterize
    in hopes of jaded end result
    No further, then, will I consult
    the painful wags with hollowed eyes

    (whose endless rituals deify
    the logic held in dark contempt
    by those who fancy themselves exempt
    from cages built of maiden sky)

    Then freed from love's monotony
    and lust's enchanting, cold embrace
    Detach myself from human race
    In solitude I then shall be

    Alone to chase the fleeting stars
    In endless sky, alone and free
    Released from sentimentality
    So long held behind those frigid bars

    But still the prison's beckoning
    continues at my weary heart
    Emotions once forgotten part
    of consciousness, still lingering

    Removed I cannot stay for long
    from feelings so cumbersome
    I still depend on martyrdom
    to drive my endless human song
    Last edited by WBDaddy; 19-Jan-2011 at 04:11. Reason: f***ing typo....

  9. #9

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    I think the classics have had an influence on our poems and in this case, style. In my case, I deliberately wanted something with meter and rhyme. Usually I write in free verse, so I wanted the challenge. The four lines, "I am that soldier dead and faded on the beach" hearken back to Keats.

    WB, I like the connectivity with the use of the word "fuel". I enjoy doing such in my own writing. Your poem reminds me of something I wrote when I was in college. It was about the hypocrisy of the students at my college, most who were having sex with someone, yet criticizing others for their sex life. Mine was diverse, to say the least, and eventually I found a room off campus where I could get away from the idiots and be myself. My grades went up significantly. It was part of a longer poem. I will try to post it this afternoon or early evening when I am through with work.

    ---------- Post added at 09:01 PM ---------- Previous post was at 06:48 AM ----------

    Here it is. This is part of a larger work so the last line may not make a lot of sense.

    Opus #5

    After rains of spring and Adam’s romance,
    grew a race of people bone-strong,
    half of ox and half of sheep,
    elaborate stalls of sweetest silk stacked in towers
    for rows on streets.
    They’d bed together,
    all quite sweet and quiet,
    but for the light of morning’s smile
    to break the dawn on sheets defiled,
    and each of them would point their hoof
    and hide in corners
    while the storm of piercing orange raged past their beds
    and found them guilty - -,
    Then like mourners they’d emerge and start again
    another day-full endless search for bedtime’s mate;
    the linen’s dirt, a higher pile.
    The once accused is searching far in shadows now
    where overlooked the guilty caught will point back too.
    Let no tear corrupt this quiet.

  10. #10

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    Well spoken alliteration. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you attended UVA (storm of piercing orange)?

    Actually, that last line is quite potent as a closer, even without the larger work.

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